Note: I suppose I got this idea from a movie I saw, "Sliding Doors". I don't mean any infringement, I'm not making money off of this...this is just for fun. This is also my first fanfic I've posted. I have written others but they aren't finished. Hopefully this will be the first I finish. Also, I didn't know what to name this so don't laugh if this is a retarded name. Okay? Thanks!

Parts of the story which follow a string of:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ mean the events which happen when she does stay for pizza +++++++++++++++ mean the events which happen when she doesn't stay for pizza

Eventually there'll be no more string of +++++++ since you pretty much know what happens.

When Customer Service Makes All The Difference

Walking with her usual lazy gait, she enjoyed the busy street at night. She admired the sound and view of the cars as they roared by her and other people. She turned to see the little pizza store on the corner. Her stomach rumbled...she didn't have much money left though. She decided to go in and see what their prices were like. If she could spare the money she would stay and eat, otherwise she'd just go hungry for another night.

The door made a pleasant tinkle as she stepped through. She closed her eyes and took a big whiff of the tantalizing aroma. She raised her head, reading the prices.

She only had a few dollars left but...The smell was so tempting! She looked at the kind looking old man behind the counter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nikita stepped forward but accidentally dropped her glove but caught it before it fell to the ground.

"Can I help you?" an old man spoke from behind the counter, he had a kind face and a nice smile.

"Yes...can I get a slice of pizza?" her husky voice was timid and quiet at the same time, contrasting with her physical size. "With pepperoni and mushrooms?"

"Of course," the man rang up the order on the register, "$3.50*"

*I have no idea how much a slice of pizza costs. I have never bought 1 slice so...don't laugh if I'm way off.

Nikita gulped...The old man smiled...he had seen her many nights, looking through the window with hunger on her face. He knew she was another homeless runaway...with nowhere to go nowhere to turn for help. He looked at her innocent eyes and saw vulnerability there...much like a young child. "It's okay dear. It's on me..." he smiled at her.

"Thank you so much," Nikita was elated. It wasn't often when someone showed her kindness.

"I'm about to close anyway...there was some left..." the kindly man pushed a whole pizza box across the counter.

Nikita took the warm box and carried it with her to the table in the corner. She sat down to eat for a while and savored the fulfillment she felt. Life was hard for her but every once in a while there would be some good times, kind times.

++++++++++

Nikita stepped forward but accidentally dropped her glove. She sighed and bent down to pick it up. She got back up but instead of the old man who had previously been standing there, there was an irritated looking younger man in his place. She looked behind him and saw that the older man was busy with another chore.

"Yes?" the man who was serving her spoke with impatience.

"Yes...can I get a slice of pizza? With pepperoni and mushrooms?"

The man pushed a few digits into the register and tapped restlessly on the counter, "$3.50."

Nikita gulped...

"Look if you can't afford it don't come in here, okay?"

Nikita nodded and stepped back and ran out of the store. She sniffled, thinking about the future. What was she going to do with the rest of her life? Girls her age should have been having fun, laughing, and dating...But instead she was sitting on the curb of the street with nowhere to go. She stood up quickly, and decided to just walk. She didn't want people to see her cry. She just wanted to crawl into a corner and have a good cry...She turned into a dark alley and heard struggling behind the garbage bin. She saw the figure of a man stabbing another man.

She screamed out to stop the man, he turned and saw her. He turned to attack her. They struggled for some time. Nikita managed to get the knife and he ran away. She knelt down to see how badly injured the man was. It was a police officer...The next thing she knew was she was surrounded by police officers with guns aimed at her. She raised her hands and dropped the knife to the ground. The world was spinning around her...She didn't hear the cops yelling at her to freeze and she didn't hear their sirens...The only thing she heard was the sound of the knife clattering to the ground as she dropped it hopelessly.

She was convicted despite her protests of being innocent. She barely remembered her trial or her time in prison. The only thing that hit her forcefully was when she woke up in a stark white room...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nikita grabbed the napkin and wiped her mouth. She picked up the box of pizza and took it with her. It wasn't often she got free food, so she needed to save some for when she would really need it. She nodded her thanks to the kindly man who owned the shop and walked out the door. She heard police sirens around the corner. Curious, she turned the corner. Apparently they caught a man who had killed a police officer. She sighed...would her life be like this always? What if the man killed her next time? She wanted to change her life but how? It wasn't as if she could go out and just get a job...

************

Michael pulled his trench coat on and walked out onto the street. It was six in the morning, the brisk fall air refreshed him as he closed his eyes and just walked down the street to his car. He paused...he looked over to the park at the end of the block. For some reason he felt drawn to it. He had visited the park several times, and often went there when he needed to think. So he just followed his impulse and strolled towards the park.

He felt the soft cushioning of the grass beneath his shoes and could smell the dew on the grass. He admired the view and walked to his favorite bench. He was about to sit down but noticed a young woman took up the bench, sleeping. He knew she was homeless and most probably had nowhere to go. He crouched down to admire her innocent face, her soft blonde hair and delicate lips. He had never seen such pure beauty or innocence from one person. Rebelling against his conscience he reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was as soft as satin. Suddenly her eyes popped open.

She had felt the soft caress of someone's hand against her cheek. She opened her eyes to see a man crouching before her. He was dressed in black and seemed dangerous...She sat up abruptly and crouched beside the bench, scared.

Michael was shocked to see her beautiful cerulean eyes open...but then he realized it was his own fault really...Touching her when he knew he shouldn't. But it seemed like an eternity since he had ever touched a woman on his own accord. He seduced many women in his..."line of work"...but under normal conditions he would never approach any of them. They were physically attractive but...inside they just seemed ordinary. Nothing about them attracted him to them. They had no passion for life...but then he was a hypocrite. Long ago he may have had that passion which he found attractive but Section eliminated that part of him.

He felt guilty for waking her and scaring her, "I'm not going to hurt you." He reached out his hand to her, offering her to take it.

Nikita immediately realized this man had an accent. It was softly lilted and incredibly sensuous. She guessed he was French. "Who are you?" her husky voice was filled with innocence and vulnerability.

"You can call me Michael," Michael was surprised to realize that he just told her his name outright. But he supposed it was her overwhelming innocence that allowed him to trust her so easily with his name. He rested his hand down on the bench, realizing she wasn't about to give her hand right away.

"Michael..." Nikita thought such a name suited him well. It was strong, dark but soft as well. "Why are you here?"

Michael's lips turned up in amusement. It was a good question, really. He answered truthfully, "I don't know."

"You don't know..." Nikita mulled over his response and smirked. She had noticed his amused smile and decided she shouldn't take it for granted, as it seemed such smiles came once in a lifetime. "Was it you who touched me?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just..." Michael was apologetic, and confused. He didn't know why he touched her, just felt the urge to feel her skin. It looked so soft and smooth.

"You just...?" Nikita was flustered. This mysterious looking man had approached her and stroked her cheek for no reason at all. She realized though he seemed dangerous, he wasn't any danger to her. She tilted her head, admiring his face. He had soft looking auburn hair, piercing green eyes and soft lips. This man, Michael, was incredibly sensuous and handsome.

"You like what you see?" Michael smiled, knowing that she was admiring him. He was flattered...and happy.

Nikita blushed..."Sorry."

"Don't be," Michael took his own turn admiring her face once again, and made sure she knew what he was doing. He looked down at her lips and her smooth skin. He finished and looked deeply into her blue eyes. Nikita blushed under his scrutiny. She felt so ugly, unattractive and looked down so he couldn't see her face much more.

"What's wrong?" Michael noticed her reluctance to let him admire her.

"I...I don't feel comfortable with you looking at me that way," Nikita spoke softly.

"Why?" Michael had altered his voice to match her softness.

"Well...I'm sure you've met and have been with hundreds of beautiful women. I'm just a poor comparison to them...always have been," Nikita sniffled and chastised herself for breaking down in front of a complete stranger.

Michael was uncomfortable. How could she be so wrong? She was more beautiful than any of his targets and she was without makeup or plastic surgery, no doubt. He felt an uncontrollable urge to wipe away her tears and embrace her and never let go. But he steeled himself, he couldn't do that to someone he just met.

"Yeah...well. This has been interesting Michael but I think I've embarrassed myself enough and should go," Nikita stood to run away and escape from the incredible unease.

"Wait!" Michael stood to chase her.

"What?" Nikita looked into his eyes with tears and discomfort.

"It's going to be a cold day...Take my scarf," Michael reached to remove the black scarf around his neck. He pulled it off and wrapped it fondly around her neck. Nikita was warmed by the gesture.

"Thank you Michael," Nikita smiled thankfully at the man and her tears dried up.

"You're welcome," Michael leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on each cheek before turning on his heel and leaving for Section.

Nikita immediately raised her palm to cover where his lips had been, her cheeks heated by his touch. She lifted the end of the scarf to her nose and smelled...The warm, soft scarf had a masculine, sexy smell to it. She sighed, and went on her way.

************

Birkoff looked up to see Michael walking down the hall. He briefly wondered why Michael was later than usual. Everyday Michael arrived through the same entrance, at the same time, and almost wearing the same clothes...But Birkoff tilted his head when he realized Michael's scarf was missing.

There he is again...Later than usual but he looks exactly the same as he does everyday. Funny, where's his scarf? Michael's getting a little too predictable, if someone were to ask me anything other than computer. Damn, he needs a woman! Birkoff laughed at the thought. He knew Michael could get any woman he wanted...but for some reason, unknown to Birkoff, he was still single. If I were Michael I'd put my talents to good use...starting with Gail over there. Birkoff's eyes roamed over to where analyst was sitting. She was cute, smart and very attractive. But Birkoff never could work up the courage to speak to her outside of Section business.

Michael opened up the door to his office. He took off his coat and placed it on the chair in front of his desk. He briefly wondered why he even had a chair in front of his desk, it wasn't as though someone actually sat there. As he walked by the lamp sitting on the desktop, he realized that this time he didn't have his scarf to drape over it. He smiled thinking back to the young woman he met in the park today. For some reason she struck a chord in him. Something about her automatically drew him to her. Was it just her physical beauty? Or was it her innocence? Maybe it was because it was someone he could help?

He opened up his laptop, purely for the benefit of the cameras. He had to keep up the illusion that he was working like a good little Section clone, and not actually having individual thoughts.

Michael wondered if she slept there often or if it was just a one-time thing. He hoped it was a habit...then maybe he'd see her again. I'll go to the park today after I leave...just in case she needs anything.

Michael's thoughts of the young woman were interrupted with a knock on the door. He looked up and switched back into operative mode: curt, cold, and careless.

"Come in."

Walter opened the door holding a folder, "Madeline wanted me to give you this."

"What is it?" Michael questioned.

"She wants you to train a new recruit. Some guy who killed a cop. Hey, I've got a question for you Michael? When are we getting in some nice young things? If you ask me the ratio of young women killers to old dirty men killers is too low," Walter chuckled. He noticed that Michael smiled at his joke. Every single time he and Michael spoke, when not on missions, he had tried to make the younger man smile or laugh. Walter knew Simone's death affected Michael greatly, and that it was seldom that he smiled or laughed.

"Thank you Walter. I'll be there in while. I just want to finish this up," Michael explained to the older man.

"Sure Michael. I'll see you later," Walter walked out the door and shut it behind him.

Nikita clutched her jacket around her more tightly. She was thankful Michael gave her his scarf, because he was right...it was a very cold day. She snuggled her face into the scarf and was assaulted with his scent. She wondered if she'd ever see him again... Did he live near the park? Or was he just in the neighborhood? She hoped he lived nearby and that she'd see him again; not because he gave her his scarf...but because there was something about him that stuck in her mind. He was alluring, mysterious and somehow got under her skin. There were few people from her past that still stuck in her mind. She had met this man once and she was still thinking about him. She sighed and tried to think about something else, but failed. She continued down busy street of downtown and just admired everything about it.

************

Nikita was walking past a little coffee bar when she crashed head on with someone who obviously was well built. She groped for the person's shoulders to steady herself and felt hands come up to grasp her upper arms. She looked up to apologize to the person and found herself gazing into piercing green eyes. She couldn't believe two people having those same green eyes and realized it was him, it was Michael.

"Oh...I'm so sorry...Michael!" Nikita just about freaked out when she realized it was her mysterious man in black.

"Hello."

"Sorry to crash into you like this...I wasn't watching where I was going. I was just smelling the coffee," finally Nikita let go of his strong shoulders.

"Do you like coffee?" Michael wondered as he still held her arms.

"Yes...but I-I've never had any fancy European coffees like this," Nikita gestured to the coffee bar in front. "I only drink the motor oil they serve in those diners. You know what I mean?"

Michael smiled briefly. He had his share of bad coffee. Many times he had to stop in diners during missions for caffeine and was appalled to taste what they claimed to be coffee. "Yes I do. How about I buy you a cup of fancy European coffee?"

"M-me? Right now?" Nikita was shocked.

"Yes...is that a problem?"

"No...I'd love to. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome but first you have to give me something in return," Michael reluctantly let go of her arms.

"Oh...well...what do you want?" Nikita couldn't imagine what he wanted from her. It wasn't as though she had much to give in the first place.

"What is your name?" Michael admired her smooth skin as he had this morning.

"My name? Oh right! I haven't even told you my name yet...It's...it's Nikita."

"Ni-ki-ta..." Michael spoke in his lilted French accent, admiring the exotic beauty of the name. "It's a very beautiful name Ni-kita," Michael offered his arm and faced the coffee bar.

Nikita nearly swooned when she heard Michael say her name. If she had known he could say it like that she would have told him long ago. She smiled up at him and took his arm and walked forward. "Thank you Michael."

************

Michael pulled out the chair for Nikita and Nikita smiled at him. That was the first time anyone had held out her chair for her. She murmured her thanks and sat down.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted?" Michael took off his jacket and rested it down on the back of his seat. Underneath his jacket he wore a black suit. It wasn't tight fitting or anything but it did hug his body in just the right way. Nikita sighed to herself...she hadn't realized that he was handsome and buff.

"Well...I've always wanted to try a cappuccino. Is that okay?"

"You can get anything you want. Don't worry. And don't feel like you're asking too much. I don't mind at all. Wait right here," Michael walked away and Nikita's eyes followed him.

She immediately noticed he had a sexy strut, but he obviously wasn't aware of it. And her eyes roamed to his butt which appeared to be quite firm. She shook her head, saying she should be ashamed of herself. Nikita! What's wrong with you? This incredibly nice man is buying you coffee and you're admiring his backside? Get a grip! She took a few deep breaths and tore her eyes away from his butt. But she couldn't help herself and stole one last look before gluing her eyes to the chair in front of her.

She was glad to be someplace warm and comfortable. But she looked around and saw people staring at her. She looked down at herself. She was wearing tattered rags, while they all wore expensive watches and jewelry. She was embarrassed...she wanted to get up and run out of there. But she didn't want to be rude to Michael...Nikita looked around and tried to find a table where she might not be as visible, but there was none. She saw their condescending looks and sneers and started to sniffle a bit. Wherever she went she was treated this way. She was always treated as some kind of outcast.

Michael placed her cappuccino and biscotti in front of her. He sat down and immediately knew something was wrong.

"Ni-kita? What's wrong?" Michael reached across and caressed her hand within his own.

"Nothing...I'm so embarrassed. I always cry too much..." Nikita tried to keep up a happy pretense but failed.

"If you cry there's usually a good reason for it," Michael lifted her chin up with his left hand. "Just tell me what's wrong..."

"People are staring at me. They see me as this dirty nuisance who just won't leave them alone or something," Nikita couldn't look in his eyes as she said this. She looked down at her cappuccino and cookie-like biscuit while briefly wondering what it was.

"I'm sorry. It was insensitive for me to bring you here, we can go to my place," Michael stood and put on his coat.

"What? Your place? I..."

Michael stood standing in front of her with his hand held out. "What's wrong? Are you afraid?" Michael had a smirk on his face.

"No...it's just...I mean, it's your home. You just met me today and..." Nikita couldn't imagine why he'd invite her to his place.

"It's okay. We'll have coffee there and I'll make you dinner," Michael picked up her hand off of the table and led her out the door.

"Dinner?" Nikita was uncomfortable.

"I can cook you know. And you're probably hungrier for more than a biscotti, right?"

"Um..yeah. Right," Nikita didn't know what to expect that night. And in some ways she was afraid. She hadn't been in a real house for quite some time, especially as a guest. She decided that this man, Michael, was an enigma and couldn't be understood.

************

Michael held the front door of his house open for her. Nikita stepped through slowly and admired his home. It was warm and inviting with hardwood floors. Michael followed behind her and admired her admiring his house. He walked past her and started a fire in his fireplace.

"Your house is so beautiful Michael," Nikita spoke uncomfortably.

"Thank you. It may be a little dusty...I've been...away for a while," Michael tried as best as he could to explain his poor cleaning habits. The truth was he just returned from a mission last week and hadn't had time to clean.

"Well I'm not exactly going to criticize you for having a dirty home when I don't have a home period," Nikita smiled. And Michael's heart warmed at the sight.

"Would you like to come in the kitchen and watch me cook dinner?" Michael offered.

"I'd love to," Nikita spoke softly and grabbed Michael's arm before he walked away. "Thank you Michael...for being so nice to me. Not a lot of people treat me the way you do...And I wish they would."

Michael looked into her eyes and whispered softly, "I wish they would too." Michael tried to smile to lighten up the moment and pulled her into the kitchen.

************

"So what's for supper?" Nikita grinned and hopped up on the kitchen counter.

"Well," Michael put his hands on either side of Nikita on the counter, "I was just going to make spaghetti. But we can have whatever you want."

"Mmmm. I haven't had spaghetti in a long time. I don't want to be any trouble anyway," Nikita's stomach grumbled just thinking about food.

Michael gazed into her azure eyes and reassured her, "You're not trouble."

Nikita raised her hand and rested her palm against his face and Michael closed his eyes while she did so. Getting lost in the feeling of her touching him, Michael broke out of his reverie and pushed himself away from her.

"Better get started or we'll be eating at midnight," Nikita chuckled and hopped off of the counter, "Will you show me how?"

"Show you what?" Michael asked curiously.

"Show me how to make spaghetti...Not that I'll ever have the chance to make it, but I'd like to know," Nikita beseeched.

"Of course..." Michael motioned over to the sink. He turned on the faucets and washed his hands, Nikita did the same.

After Michael had finished cooking he had led Nikita over to the dining table. He put the plates down and Nikita sat down eagerly. He went back into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Wine?" Michael offered.

"No...I shouldn't really," Nikita was reluctant.

"Why?" Michael placed the bottle down and sat across from her.

"I never drink and if turn a little giddy from the wine, it could be dangerous for me out there," Nikita shuddered at the thought of what could happen.

"You'll be safe here," Michael subtly invited her to spend the night at his home...in a separate bed of course.

"No! Michael..." Nikita had reluctantly accepted his scarf and coffee...not to mention dinner. She wasn't about to turn his home into a homeless shelter.

"Why not?" Michael wasn't still wasn't sure why he was so kind to her. He did enjoy her company and she was innocent; but that still didn't explain why he was doing what he did.

"Just because...it's too much. I won't. I belong on the streets and I won't stay here for the night. It's not right," Nikita was stubborn.

Michael sighed, realizing she wouldn't budge, "Okay. No wine for you I guess. For now..." Michael smiled and Nikita rolled her eyes, also realizing that he was stubborn too.

"So why are you on the streets?" Michael had finally gathered the courage to ask the question that was bothering him.

"My mother preferred her new boyfriend over me. He didn't like me and so...I guess I was gone," Nikita sounded a bit sad. "I'm sorry..." Michael offered his sympathy.

"Don't be..." Nikita tried to move the conversation along. "What do you do anyway?"

"I sell art for art galleries," Michael automatically responded. He didn't want to deceive her but it was better than putting her in danger.

"Oh."

"What?"

"It's just that you don't seem like the type."

"Why not?" Michael was curious.

"I don't know...When I first saw you, you seemed dangerous...mysterious. I don't really see you selling art."

Michael was surprised to find that she read him quite well. He was a dangerous man. And he realized that he shouldn't have put her in danger just by knowing him. But for some reason he just wanted to have her close to him and to protect her. That was why he was being so hospitable to her. He simply felt an overwhelming need to protect her and make sure no harm came to her.

"What do you see me doing?" Michael probed further.

"Seriously? You're gonna laugh but espionage. You move with stealth and grace...It's the first thing that comes to mind," Nikita laughed and Michael tried to join her but couldn't. "Sorry Michael...but that's what I really think. I could see you skulking around corners and everything!"

Nikita yawned and Michael noticed that it was getting a little late. Nikita got up and stretched. She walked out into the living room and grabbed her coat.

"Are you sure you won't stay? I don't want anything to happen," Michael's concern for her was evident.

"Michael...I'll be fine. I have lived on the streets for a few years now, you know," Nikita grinned at him while pulling her arms through the coat.

"I know..."

"Thank you Michael. For everything..."

"Will you visit me?" Michael asked, desperate to see her again and not willing to let this be their last time together. He reached for the scarf he had given her that day and tied it around her neck as he had this morning, once again feeling the need to protect her.

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere. I'll be around Michael," Nikita winked at him and walked out into the night. Michael shut the door as soon as she disappeared down the street.

************

A week later Michael sat in his office, trying to type up his report. He hadn't heard from Nikita for a week now. He wondered if something may have happened to her; but quickly brushed away that thought and told himself he was being ridiculous.

It's only been a week. She's probably fine...She said she'd be around. I'll probably hear from her next week.

Michael stood up to leave his office. He was training his new recruit, the cop killer. Though he had just started training, Michael had his doubts about him. He wouldn't make the cut...simply because Michael knew he had no remorse. Remorse was a weakness and Madeline made sure everyone at Section had weakness to be exploited. He sighed...he didn't even want to waste his time on the guy.

Nikita walked down the street of Michael's home. She hadn't come to see him right after they had dinner. She wasn't sure how to approach him.

What are you going to do Nikita? Ring the doorbell and say 'Hi I'm the homeless waif you made dinner for last week. Want to go bowling?' Geez...

She walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. She didn't really think he'd be home, but she wanted to check anyway. After a few knocks she knew she was right, he must have been working. She pulled out the pink note from her pocket and slid it in the mail slot. It read:

Michael:

Missed you. I'll check in later tonight...
Maybe we can go for a walk?

Nikita

Nikita wanted to spend time with him but wanted to do something that wouldn't cost him anything. She felt guilty about the coffee, the scarf and the dinner. She knew he could afford it, no doubt. But it was awkward...she didn't want to feel like a charity case.

Nikita hopped down the few steps of his front door and wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn't wait to see Michael again. Michael...he was so caring and kind. Nikita couldn't understand why he was so kind to her but was thankful for his compassion nonetheless. She skipped along, looking forward to tonight.

************

Michael slipped his key into the front door and turned the knob. As he walked through the doorway he stepped on his pile of mail. Bending over to pick up the pile he saw a pink piece of paper folded up among the envelopes and flyers. He draped his coat on the coat rack and carried his mail into the living room to sit down. He dropped the pile on the coffee table and walked to the fireplace to start a fire. Everyday after coming home he would start a fire. It was comforting to feel that warmth encompass him after leaving a cold, sterile environment. That was why he decorated his home in a warm, comfortable manner, to make up for the lifeless tomb he worked in everyday.

He eased himself down onto the chair and went through his mail. He tossed aside the junk mail and grabbed for the pink note. He opened it up and was delighted to find that Nikita had been here. He stood and figured that she'd be hungry or cold.

I should have something ready for her when she drops by.

Michael stood and went into the kitchen to make something for Nikita.

Nikita strolled up the sidewalk of Michael's house. She noticed his car in front and the front fire roaring inside through the window. She was happy to know that Michael was home. She hopped up the front steps and knocked on the door. Waiting a moment, the door flew open and Michael stood with a smile on the other side.

"Ni-kita. It's good to see you again. I was getting worried," Michael admitted as he gestured for her to enter.

"You shouldn't really..." Nikita was touched that Michael cared, "I've just been hanging around. I wanted to come see you earlier but...was reluctant."

Michael raised his eyebrow as he led her to the pillows in front of the fireplace, "Why?"

Nikita sat down on the pillow and spoke truthfully, "It's awkward. I feel as though I'm taking advantage of you or something."

"You're not," Michael looked into her eyes and she knew he was telling the truth. Nikita smiled contentedly at him. Getting lost in her smile, he almost forgot to offer her something to drink.

"I just made some cocoa and I have some marshmallows. Interested?"

"Yes! It's quite cold out there. It's nice to be inside..." Nikita finished her thought, "with you."

************

"Okay, so how do I do this?" Nikita knelt down with a marshmallow on a stick in her right hand. Michael's lips flickered up in amusement. He walked on his knees behind her and covered her right hand with his own. Nikita's left hand automatically went to her abdomen and Michael's hand did the same. She turned back to look into his eyes and was greeted with beautiful green eyes that were filled with contentment.

"I don't do this very often either. A guy at work showed me this," Michael remembered the time Birkoff showed him how to roast marshmallows.

It was on a mission in the outdoors. Michael had returned from getting more firewood and questioned Birkoff's actions. He was holding a stick with a marshmallow in the fire.

"Birkoff, what are you doing?" Michael was suspicious.

Birkoff looked at him condescendingly; "I'm roasting marshmallows." Birkoff spoke as if he were stating the obvious.

"Roasting marshmallows?" Michael was stupefied. "Why? They're not raw..."

Birkoff grinned and motioned for Michael to sit and pay attention, "Michael...let me teach you the art of roasting marshmallows. Now, some people like them burnt others lightly browned. It's really a matter of choice. Me? I like them burnt. But Walter over there likes them lightly browned. So try a burnt one and tell me what you think?"

Birkoff handed Michael the stick and Michael grabbed for the black, sugary blob on the end. It was hot to the touch and he ended up dropping it on the ground. Michael looked at Birkoff in defeat.

"Your first mistake...let the marshmallow cool," Birkoff took great pleasure in teaching Michael what he knew.

"Let the marshmallow cool..." Michael repeated the phrase softly to himself, as if embedding it into his memory.

"Michael?" Nikita noticed that Michael had zoned out.

"Huh? Oh sorry Ni-kita...I was just remembering something," Michael smiled at the memory. "Okay, put the marshmallow into the fire and let it catch fire," Michael was with Birkoff, he liked the burnt.

Nikita giggled and put the white puff into the fire, she watched it burn and catch fire. "Do I pull it out yet?"

Michael panicked, "I-I don't remember..."

"You don't remember?" Nikita laughed out loud. "Think fast because it's burning!" Nikita pulled the stick out of the fire and blew out the fire...She was left with a crusty, black thing on the end of her stick, which surely didn't look edible. She gave Michael a look and he turned bright red.

"Don't eat that one," Michael smiled as he released her and picked up his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Nikita wondered as she tried to pierce another one on her stick.

"I'm calling an expert for some help," Michael's voice sounded serious as he dialed Birkoff's cell phone number. "Don't worry...we'll figure this out," Michael promised.

************

Birkoff was munching on Oreos when his cell phone rang. He sighed and answered the phone.

"-Ello?" Birkoff spoke with his mouth partly full.

Michael grimaced on the other line, hearing the sounds of him eating. "Didn't anyone ever tell you never to talk while you're eating?"

"Michael?" Birkoff was surprised to get his call. Michael didn't usually call him.

"Yes, Birkoff I need your help," Michael admitted.

"Okay, intel on who or what?" Birkoff steadied his hands above the keyboard, ready to type.

"Roasting marshmallows," Michael stated.

Birkoff's face scrunched up in confusion, "Sorry? Say that again Michael?"

"You heard me...roasting marshmallows," Michael sounded a bit embarrassed.

"..." Birkoff was silent.

Nikita looked over at Michael, sympathetic. He didn't seem like the kind of person who usually asked for help. "Everything okay?"

Birkoff heard a husky voice on the other end, a voice that obviously wasn't Michael's. Michael's head whipped around and gestured her to keep it down. Nikita covered her mouth with her hands, showing she was sorry.

Birkoff nearly choked on his Oreos. Walter happened to be walking by and came to Birkoff's aid, patting him on the back.

"What's the matter?" Walter crouched down and whispered.

Birkoff removed the phone from his ear and covered the mouthpiece, "Michael's on the line asking me how to roast marshmallows..."

Walter found that pretty astonishing in itself. Birkoff went on, "But get this, I heard a woman on the other line too!"

Walter choked on his saliva and Birkoff returned his favor. Walter recovered momentarily.

"Birkoff? Birkoff?" Michael became slightly agitated at the delay.

"Yeah, I'm right here Michael," Birkoff held the phone so both he and Walter could hear. "So you want to know how to roast marshmallows?"

Walter waited in anticipation, "Yes Birkoff, for the hundredth time!" Walter snickered.

"Uh...well...Michael, it's kind of hard to explain over the phone. It's pretty dead over here, and Simon can cover for me. We'll come over instead," Birkoff grinned and hung up abruptly.

"No Birko...Damn it!" Michael flipped the phone closed. Nikita looked up at him with concerned eyes. Michael smiled at her politely, assuring her all was okay.

"Something wrong?" Nikita prodded.

"You could say so," Michael rubbed his temples. Then he remembered that Birkoff said 'we'...That meant...Walter!

Nikita crawled over to Michael, who sat on the chair. She rested her forearms on the armrest and propped her chin up on them. "It couldn't be that bad...really."

Michael tried to be as positive but knew tonight would be a disaster.

Merde...

************

Nikita sat uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael grumbled in the easy chair in the corner. For the past 10 minutes she had silently sipped her cocoa, waiting...She didn't even know what she was waiting for. Michael looked upset...but not at her...Nikita didn't even know what the heck was going on.

"Michael? Are you mad at me?" Nikita squeaked in a timid voice.

Michael looked up at her and tried to smile, "No...of course not Ni-kita. There are some...coworkers coming over. And I didn't really want them to come over."

Nikita was silent. "Do you want me to leave? I understand if you don't want them to see me..."

Michael stood up and kneeled in front of her, "No...That's not it at all."

"I mean, if you don't want them to see us together that's okay. I won't be upset..." Nikita figured that Michael was ashamed to be seen with her.

"Listen...the only reason I'm upset is because I wanted us to be alone tonight. That's all. They should be coming over soon," Michael reassured her that he wasn't ashamed of her.

Nikita smiled, she was glad. "Can I use your bathroom to freshen up?" Nikita didn't want Michael to be embarrassed to be seen with her.

"Sure...but you look fine...trust me," Michael promised.

Nikita nodded and walked up the stairs to find his bathroom. She walked down the hall, admiring the paintings on the wall. There was one portrait of a woman, oriental with delicate features. Nikita thought she was beautiful and briefly wondered who the woman was.

Near the end of the hall, Nikita found the bathroom. She walked in and grimaced at her appearance. She chuckled, thinking she looked like something the cat drug in. She couldn't fathom how Michael could be so nice to her when she looked like this. She hesitated in opening the medicine cabinet, afraid to invade Michael's privacy. Thankfully there wasn't anything too personal like fungicide in his cabinet. She found a hairbrush and dragged it through her hair. Nikita couldn't remember the last time she did this...it seemed like a lifetime ago. She looked at herself closely in the mirror. She was wearing a ratty old sweater with fairly decent gray sweatpants. She pulled her sweater over her head and threw it over in the corner. Underneath the sweater she wore a white tank top. Nikita liked how the sweatpants and tank top looked together and kept them on. Reaching for a hair elastic on the countertop, Nikita pulled her hair back in a tight, high ponytail.

She stood, scrutinizing her appearance. There wasn't much more she could do. She turned the faucet on and splashed some water on her face and patted it dry with a towel. Her skin looked clean and fresh, her cheeks slightly rosy. She paused, hearing the doorbell downstairs. But Nikita shrugged it off, reaching for a jar of Vaseline. She dipped her fingertip in the jelly and rubbed it on her lips. Nikita pressed her lips together, and opened the door to leave the bathroom.

Michael had mentally prepared himself for Birkoff and Walter coming over. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension and opened the door, face stoic.

"Hi Michael! We were in the neighborhood and decided to drop in," Walter chortled. Birkoff stuck his head in the doorway and looked around for the woman he knew he heard on the phone.

"Would you like to come in?" Michael offered, not really wanting them to come in.

"We'd love to," Birkoff agreed and entered.

Walter looked over and saw two pillows by the fireplace and two sticks for roasting marshmallows. Birkoff was right, Michael had company. Walter and Birkoff took the initiative and sat down on the two-seater in the living room, waiting for the mystery woman to come out.

Nikita stepped down the stairs and saw a young man with buzzed hair and glasses sitting on the sofa with an older man who had long, pulled back gray hair. She smiled politely.

Wow! Michael found himself a pretty one! Walter kept his thoughts to himself.

Geez...Well I did say Michael needed a woman...and that's a woman...Birkoff immediately had a crush on the blonde who sauntered down the stairs.

Michael cleared his throat, "Nikita, these are some of my coworkers. This is Walter and Seymour...but we call him Birkoff. This is Nikita."

Nikita stepped forward to shake lifeless hands. Apparently, they were still in a state of shock, Michael having a lady friend over.

"Hi Walter, Seymour." Nikita tried to be friendly and amiable, not wanting to embarrass Michael.

When Michael saw Nikita coming down the stairs he felt overwhelmed by her natural beauty once again. She was casual, laid back and all natural. Some women he knew were uptight, fake and made up. Nikita was refreshing.

"So..." Nikita tried to fill the uncomfortable silence and knelt down in front of the fireplace, "Which one of you is going to teach us how to roast marshmallows?"

************

Walter, being the smooth one of the two, got up off the couch. He made his way over to the pillow that was Michael's and sat down.

Birkoff just sat, gazing at Michael's blonde haired beauty. Michael was irritated at his 'coworkers' interruption and stood in the corner with his hand covering his mouth.

"I'll help you Sugar," Walter winked at Nikita and Nikita smiled. "I'll show you how I like my marshmallows."

Nikita was interested and watched how Walter skewered the marshmallow on the stick and raised it just above the flames, rotating it so it browned evenly.

Michael was nervous, he needed to calm down so he sat down next to Birkoff.

Birkoff turned to Michael and opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated, trying to find the proper way to word what he was about to say. Finally he just blurted out, "Where'd you find her?"

"What do you mean?" Michael was paranoid, why...he didn't really know.

"I mean...where did you meet?" Birkoff was impatient.

"In the park by my house," Michael didn't want to lie. Lying would only make Michael uncomfortable and Nikita uncomfortable.

"Damn...why aren't there women like that in the park by my place?" Birkoff cursed to himself. Michael was amused, apparently Nikita was well liked by both Walter and Birkoff.

"Okay," Nikita spoke with excitement, "Let me try now."

Nikita grabbed a stick and skewered two marshmallows on it. She knelt in front of the fire and did the same as Walter. Walter did the same thing Michael did earlier. He covered Nikita's hand with his own and his left arm had embraced her around the waist.

Nikita, too passive to do anything about Walter, just went along with him.

Michael, knowing Walter's intentions, got up and removed Walter's paws off of Nikita. Walter grumbled and returned to his seat next to Birkoff. Nikita retracted the stick of marshmallows and was delighted to see that she didn't burn them to a crisp like they did before.

She was about to take the marshmallows off of the stick but Michael stopped her, remembering Birkoff's words from a long time ago.

"Let them cool first," Michael whispered. Nikita smiled, looking into his eyes.

Birkoff and Walter elbowed each other, seeing the sexual tension pass between the two with just a look. Birkoff was uncomfortable and tried to look anywhere but at them. Walter instead cleared his throat. "I think they're cool now."

"Right," Michael whispered and reached for a marshmallow and placed it in Nikita's open mouth. He felt her lips close on his fingers and a slight swipe of her tongue. Nikita returned his favor and put the second marshmallow in Michael's mouth.

"Mmmm..." Nikita moaned.

Birkoff turned Beet red and Walter just grinned.

"Warm, sweet and sticky..." Nikita commented on the taste and by the look on Michael's face, he seemed to agree.

Birkoff was about to get up and walk out of there but Walter restrained him. Birkoff couldn't take the tension and cleared his throat, a seemingly common and effective way to break the tension.

Nikita turned around and blushed, realizing that they weren't alone. She swallowed and opened her mouth to speak, "So you guys work with Michael at the art gallery?"

Birkoff stumbled, "Y-yeah...that's right."

Nikita looked at him disbelieving, "You two don't really look like you work at an art gallery."

Birkoff raised his eyebrow, not sure what she was saying.

"Well you look like you belong in some kind of high tech institute with computers or something. And Walter...you look like you belong in a motorcycle shop!" Nikita laughed at her perceptions.

Michael smiled, Nikita was pretty good at first impressions. He pretended to yawn. "It's getting late, don't you two have to be going?" Michael just wanted them out of there.

"No..." Birkoff started but Walter elbowed him in the belly, "Yeah, I guess you're right. See you at work tomorrow Michael...good to meet you Nikita."

Nikita smiled and waved at them politely. Michael walked Birkoff and Walter to the door and shut it behind them before they could say anything further.

"I thought they'd never leave," Michael exhaled.

"Yeah...well I should be leaving too I guess," Nikita got up from the ground, "We didn't get that walk but this was just as fun."

Michael looked at her with regret, not wanting her to leave so soon.

Nikita snapped her fingers, "I forgot my sweater upstairs. Just let me go get it?"

"Of course," Michael spoke softly.

Nikita ran upstairs to fetch her sweater and returned quickly.

"Guess that's it for tonight," Nikita pulled on her coat. Michael reached for her scarf and tied it for as he had since he met her.

He ran the back of his hand against her cheek, "Come back here tomorrow, will you please?"

"Of course I will," Nikita smiled.

"I may be late so...I'll leave a key in the plant pot outside, okay?"

"Okay, 'bye," Nikita agreed and walked out the door.

Michael shut it behind her and smiled when he thought of his plans for them tomorrow. Nikita was going to be pleasantly surprised tomorrow night.

************

Michael walked into Section with the same exterior he always did: cold and stoic. But Michael's act was no use with Birkoff and Walter. As soon as Walter saw Michael he motioned him over to join him with his weapons, Birkoff followed.

"So...what happened last night after we left?" Walter was dying with curiosity.

Michael blank stared him, "Nothing. She got tired and left."

"Yeah...right!" Birkoff roared. "I saw those looks you were giving each other last night, feeding each other...You can't say nothing happened!"

Michael blinked. Walter and Birkoff were doubtful.

"You can believe what you like but it's the truth," Michael stated before he walked away to his office. He left Birkoff and Walter scratching their heads. Last night Michael was open, affectionate and smiled. Today he was reverted back to his Section self, emotionless and cold. What was different?

Michael opened the door to his office and sat down at the desk. Michael rubbed his chin with his right hand, remembering. He had enjoyed last night. It seemed that only with Nikita he could open up and laugh. There was something about her that made him sit back, relax and enjoy himself...enjoy her.

Michael sat forward and grabbed for the phone. He needed to make arrangements for tonight.

************

Nikita had once again spent the day walking down the streets, window-shopping. She admired the beautiful dresses in the window and the wealthy women who were getting their hair done in the beauty salon. She sighed, envious of the life the lived. She asked a stranger walking down the street for the time.

The man looked at her irritated, "3:30 okay?"

"Thank you," Nikita barely managed to say.

She steeled herself, she wouldn't cry. Everyone treated her as though she were a pest that needed to be eliminated. Everyone but Michael. Michael...she remembered her promise to return to him today. It would be a long walk back to his house so she got on her way.

Nikita walked back up the steps of Michael's house. She sighed contentedly...how she had been blessed with such a good friend she didn't know.

Nikita reached down into the pot and found the key amongst some rocks. She quickly opened up the door, walked in and sat on the couch. She sighed, hoping Michael was coming home soon. She missed him already.

Not knowing what to do with herself, Nikita opened up some cupboards, revealing a television. It had been a while since she watched TV and she wanted to see if the soap operas she watched as a child had progressed at all. She pushed the on button and sat down to enjoy some quality programming.

She flipped through the channels and watched with little interest. Suddenly the doorbell rang. Nikita got up and opened the door hesitantly.

"Hi, Nikita?" an older woman stood on the front steps holding a few hangers with some clothes on them. She also carried a kit in her other hand.

"Yes..." Nikita was thrown, "Do I know you?"

The woman laughed, "No you don't. But Michael called for my services. He wanted me to help you get ready for tonight."

"Tonight...?" Nikita was speechless.

"For your dinner date of course!" the woman walked in, a little pushy. "Now, come on. Why don't you go shower and I'll get some things laid out. All right? Go on now..."

The woman started to go to work and Nikita just did as she ordered, walking up the stairs, not knowing what was going on.

************

Nikita came down the stairs with a white towel wrapped around her body and her hair. She saw that the pushy little woman had some dresses laid out on the couch and a makeup kit sitting on the coffee table.

"There you are! Ready to get started? I know I am!" the woman appeared to take great pleasure in what she did and gestured for Nikita to sit down on the couch.

Nikita did as the woman asked and sat down. The woman hummed as she looked at the dresses and back at Nikita. She picked up a long, white satin gown. It was strapless and had a long slit up the right side.

"This dress is perfect for you...Now for some shoes..." the woman pulled out a shoebox. She lifted the lid off and pulled out a pair of white stiletto, strappy shoes. "These are sexy."

"Yes...they may be sexy but how will I walk?" Nikita scoffed.

"Good point...we'll practice," the woman beamed at Nikita, not willing to compromise.

Nikita groaned and slipped the shoes on, ankles rolling out and wobbling as she stood. "This is going to be a painful night."

"Nonsense..." the woman dismissed.

Nikita walked with her arms out, balancing herself, "What's your name?"

"Oh! Silly me! My name is Anne and I'll be your fashion and makeup consultant," the woman giggled very much like Betty Rubble off of the Flintstones. Nikita couldn't believe the woman's energy. "Keep walking, you'll get it soon."

Anne turned back around and browsed through her makeup kit while Nikita practiced. She hummed a cheerful tune and brought out some brushes to apply makeup.

After a while Nikita had become a little familiar with the shoes and sat down. "You're gonna do my make up too?"

"Of course...and your hair," Anne kept herself busy while she talked, rearranging lipsticks and eyeshadows, "This Michael must be a really special man..."

Nikita sighed, "He is..."

************

Michael walked out of his office, wearing a black suit and a white shirt underneath (think double date). He never liked wearing ties and always tried to avoid so whenever he could, but of course Madeline did like to see him suffer and enjoyed giving him ugly ties to wear.

Birkoff looked up and whistled, "Hot date tonight Michael?"

"Shut up Birkoff..." Michael was curt with Birkoff, wanting to get back to Nikita. He walked down the corridor, footsteps echoing.

"Whatever..." Birkoff shrugged Michael's response off, enjoying rattling Michael.

Michael had stopped off at a flower shop, picking up a dozen roses for Nikita. He wanted their night together to be perfect...surely she deserved it.

Returning home Michael turned the knob of the front door and walked through. He saw Anne seated in the living room, gathering her things together. She turned around and greeted Michael with a smile.

"She's just upstairs perfecting everything," Anne whispered. Michael nodded understanding. Michael walked over to the chair across from the staircase. He wanted to sit where he could see Nikita come down the stairs. He bent and the knees and lowered himself down.

But as soon as Michael saw long, lithe legs walking down the stairs he fell off the chair. Anne turned around, tending to Michael.

"I'm all right," Michael reassured Anne, not wanting her to fuss over him.

Nikita tried to rush over to Michael, but her shoes dragged her down. "You okay Michael?"

Michael looked up at Nikita...he couldn't decide when she was more beautiful. When she was made up and glamorous or all natural in sweat pants. Her hair was gently curled about her face and pinned in a few places. Her makeup was natural and minimal, as she looked beautiful even without makeup. Michael noticed her dress...she was an angel. The dress hugged her curves and displayed her lithe body magnificently. Michael could see a bit of her cleavage and miles of long legs. He knew she was beautiful but...he hadn't realized she was a seductress.

"You look so...so beautiful...like an angel," Michael had finally managed to utter.

Nikita smiled. She could tell he was in awe and was flattered that someone like Michael found her attractive. "Thank you Michael. You look very...very handsome too. I like your suit. It's not all black," Nikita gushed about his appearance. She figured handsome was a good euphemism for hotter than hell.

"I should be going now," Anne packed up her things and headed for the door, "Thank you for your business Mr. Samuelle."

Neither had noticed Anne had left. Michael sat just gazing at her and remembered her roses. "I got these for you," Michael offered her the bouquet awkwardly. Seeing her like this made him act as though he was on a high school prom date. He almost laughed at the way he was acting but was too overwhelmed by Nikita's beauty.

If Madeline saw him like this she would make him go through his seductive training all over again. He thanked god Madeline wasn't there.

Finally Michael found the strength to stand and held out his arm, "Should we go?"

"Yes..." Nikita was touched, "Michael?"

Michael stopped, "What?"

"I just wanted to thank you for what you did and what you've done. You're a very special man," Nikita looked into Michael's emotional green eyes.

"You're a very special woman Nikita," Michael responded.

************

Nikita was arm in arm with Michael, walking slowly into the restaurant. Michael looked over at his companion and saw how she absorbed her surrounding in awe. Nikita admired the music playing in the background, the couples dancing on the floor and the faint sounds of champagne glasses clinking together.

"Mademoiselle?" the waiter pulled out her chair for her and laid her napkin on her lap. Nikita smiled gratefully. Michael took his seat as well and ordered for the both of them. Nikita guessed he had been here before several times and knew what he wanted.

"So how do you like it so far?" Michael observed the emotions on Nikita's face.

"I think this place is wonderful," Nikita beamed, "I never thought I'd be in a place like this before. With a man like you, with a dress like this..."

"It won't be the last time," Michael promised and stood, laying his napkin on the table, "Would you like to dance?"

Nikita sat, trying desperately to avoid chewing her fingernails. She didn't look very willing, Michael bent over to hear her whisper, "I don't know how to dance Michael."

Michael just smiled, "Just follow my lead. Dancing is easy...just hold onto me and sway with the music."

Nikita took the plunge and grabbed Michael's hand, "Okay...I trust you Michael."

Michael repeated those words in his head as he led Nikita on the dance floor. She trusts me...The words made him feel good but worried him too. Where exactly did he see this going? He felt a deep connection to her but...almost everything he said to her had been a lie. She didn't know he was a killer, that he supposedly died many years ago...He tried to convince himself it would be better if he stopped seeing her, but...she needed him, not in the financial sense but he could tell that she had been lonely for many years. Lonely like he had been. Not only did she need him, Michael was afraid to admit it but also he needed her. They needed each other.

Michael pushed away his worries and just concentrated on the feeling of her in his arms and him in her arms.

Nikita lost herself in his arms and in their dance. At first she was afraid to hurt him with those weapons Anne called shoes, but eventually she could feel her subliminal desire to just rest her head on his shoulder and sway her hips with his. Feeling weak in the legs, Nikita went with her desire and rested her head on his strong shoulder.

Michael was surprised that Nikita had given in the to feeling of the dance so quickly. He decided that her head on his shoulder felt right, his arms embraced her lower back and pulled her closer. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her...her hair, her skin...

"This feels good Michael," Nikita whispered automatically.

"I know," Michael's voice grew slightly hoarse, her nearness affecting him.

The song ended, breaking the spell the dance cast upon the two. Nikita let go and backed away, uncomfortable. Michael composed himself and led her back to their table, pulling her chair out for her. Nikita mumbled her thanks, feeling self conscious because of her neediness on the dance floor.

Don't cling to him so much Nikita! You'll scare him away!

Michael sat down, taking a deep breath.

Control yourself. She's so delicate and fragile...Your overwhelming desire for her will frighten her. So...for now just control yourself!

It was almost funny how each was afraid of their need for each other, as if the other would be terrified and run away.

Michael was back in control after a moment, "Champagne?"

Nikita felt impulsive and went for it, "Sure...why not?"

************

Michael and Nikita had returned back to Michael's house. Neither were sure where they would go from there.

Nikita took seat in front of the fireplace and watched Michael make a fire. She watched the flames dance and move, while Michael watched Nikita. Nikita turned around to see Michael walk into the kitchen. She waited patiently, not sure what he was up to.

"I thought if you could have some champagne at the restaurant, there's no reason for you to refuse any here," Michael returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Uhhh...I guess you're right. Fill 'er up!" Nikita giggled, a little giddy from the champagne.

Michael reconsidered giving her more, since she was already a little hyper. But he would keep her safe, and poured them both a glass.

Nikita held the glass in her hand, looking through it and watched the bubbles move up in the glass. She smiled, relaying her fascination with the bubbles. She sipped slowly, then more quickly.

"This is my first time drinking champagne...it's good stuff!" Nikita exclaimed.

Michael was silent, observing her giddiness. He sipped his own glass as she finished up hers. She held it out to him, silently but pointedly asking for more. Michael smirked and obliged her.

"I think this should be your last glass," Michael suggested, not wanting her to embarrass herself.

"Oh I'll be all right...My mother was a big drunk, I'm sure I can handle it just as well," Nikita brushed him off. She polished off her glass and jumped up to her feet. She hopped up on Michael's couch, standing with her feet wide apart. Michael looked up at her anxiously...not sure what she was going to do...afraid what she was going to do because he could tell she was a little...tipsy.

"This night has been magical Michael...I never thought I'd experience what I did tonight," Nikita hopped down and turned her back to him, "I feel as though I should pay you back in some way..." Nikita turned around, the fire reflecting in her eyes. Nikita flashed back to when she was younger and her mother yelled at her to thank her boyfriends properly. "But there's only one way I know how and..." Nikita paused, afraid to what she felt she needed to do. You have to! Nikita pushed herself.

Michael still sat by the fire when Nikita strode toward him purposefully and straddled him. She started kissing him and pulling him closer.

To say Michael was caught off guard was an understatement. But what was he going to do about it?

************

Michael's first instinct was to hoist her up and carry her to his bedroom. Fortunately, Section had trained him in the art of control. He finally managed to think coherently and realized what was going on. Nikita was tipsy, and had formed some notion in her head that she owed him her body for all that he had done for her. Michael tore his mouth away and tried to catch his breath.

"No...Nikita," Michael was weak with his desire for her but managed to say what needed to be said.

Nikita looked heartbroken, "You don't want me..." Nikita didn't bother to form it as a question, she already jumped to the conclusion that Michael didn't desire her. Embarrassed, Nikita got up off of Michael and ran up the stairs to gather her things. She just wanted to get back in her sweats and go back to the streets, where she belonged.

Nikita shut the door behind her in the bathroom, shimmying out of the satin dress. Tears automatically came dripping down her face, feeling the rejection. She left the white gown in a heap on the tile floor and reached for her sweats.

Michael had followed Nikita up the stairs, trying to explain. He knocked on the bathroom door, "Nikita? It's not what you think..."

"No? I think it's pretty simple. You can dress me up in fancy clothes, with makeup and take me to a big expensive restaurant...But, you're right," Nikita laughed, "I'm still an ugly, worthless girl from the street who's just a charity case." Nikita opened the door, "Well guess what Michael? I don't want to be a charity case!"

Michael saw the tears and pain in her eyes and tried to stop her from leaving. Nikita pushed past Michael and ran down the stairs, opening up the front door. Michael had just started coming down the stairs when Nikita stood in the doorway with her back to him. He opened his mouth to tell her to wait...to stop...not to leave; but Nikita interrupted him.

"Thanks for everything Michael, it's been fun," Nikita said her goodbye and shut the door.

************

Michael sighed and walked over to the fireplace. He watched the angry flames dance and flicker. Picking up the bottle of champagne, Michael drank straight from it.

How could you be so stupid? What if she doesn't come back? What if you never see her again? You'll be alone...

Michael sat down and thought about Nikita. Was there any possible way he could have handled that situation better? He certainly couldn't have gone through with it.

How wrong she is...

Michael wanted Nikita badly. It would have been so easy just to take her in his bed and in his arms and make love to her till dawn. He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. He needed to get some sleep for work tomorrow. His personal life was in chaos but life in Section still raged on.

Birkoff looked up to see Michael a bit worse for wear walking down the corridor. He almost hesitated in asking...almost, "How was your hot date last night Michael? I'm guessing Nikita spent all night thanking you for a wonderful evening?" Birkoff laughed, finding Michael's personal life amusing.

Michael looked at Birkoff as though he were going to kill him, "I don't want to talk about it Birkoff."

Birkoff smirked, "Ohhh...she turned you down huh? I suspected Nikita had better taste than that." Birkoff loved to jab at Michael...maybe because he didn't jab back. No, Michael was too controlled to do anything about Birkoff's jabs.

But Birkoff's usual harmless fun infuriated Michael, "Listen Birkoff...I don't remember the last time you had a date or a life outside of Section so I'd shut up about it like I said." Michael walked away and immediately regretted his words. Michael promised himself he'd apologize to Birkoff later but right now needed to be alone. He rolled his neck around and retreated to his comforting, dark office.

Birkoff looked around, wanting to see if anyone else had actually seen Michael lose control. No one around. He sighed. Michael's words didn't hurt him; but instead made him concerned about Michael. This Nikita had to be someone special to get to Michael, and obviously all had not gone well last night.

Michael crumpled up a piece of paper, frustrated that he couldn't concentrate. He ran his hand through his hair, hoping to rid himself of the tension. What was he going to do about Nikita? He needed to find her, talk to her and explain to her. But how would he find her? Surely she wouldn't be hanging around the park by his house. She was upset and wanted to be away from him. He almost wished he could just send out a team to look for her; but that would be too dangerous. Any contact with Section would be dangerous for her. He laughed. She already had a connection with Section's killing machine...that alone could give Operations reason to cancel her. If Madeline or Ops found out about his newly formed emotional connection to her, her life would be on the line.

You're selfish...

************

Nikita walked along the boardwalk of the beach. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets and she pushed her face into Michael's scarf. She wanted to throw the scarf away...his lingering scent too painful a reminder; but it was too cold to be emotionally reckless. She couldn't afford to get rid of the scarf just because of who it came from.

He doesn't want you Nikita, accept it...Move on, it's easier...Or are you just being a coward? Too scared to go back and face him, that's the real reason. Why are you so hard headed? Why can't you just accept his friendship? It was a good friendship before you mucked everything up...

Nikita sighed. Life had never been easy for her...but it was simple. The only person she had to think about was herself. She had to think about how she was going to find something to eat, how she was going to keep warm...Now that Michael was in her life it...complicated...things. The smart thing to do would have been to accept the fact he only wanted to be friends...she was lonely and needed someone. But also she sensed that Michael needed someone too. But could she possibly ignore the rapid beating of her heart whenever he was near?

Nikita had to think this through some more. Maybe she'd go see him tomorrow. Maybe they could discuss their relationship. Maybe she could force out her apology for being so forward without turning bright red and running away.

I'll go see him tomorrow.

************

Michael had composed himself and forced himself to focus. He was going on a mission and didn't have the luxury of thinking about anything but the mission. He made eye contact with Birkoff in the transport van and Birkoff nodded. Birkoff had accepted Michael's apology. Michael wasn't big on talk, Birkoff knew and understood that.

"We're going in to set the charges, shoot anyone you see opposing us," Michael was clear and concise, "Run out and then we'll detonate. Any questions?"

The other operatives shook their head. Anyone who didn't listen to Michael the first time usually didn't fare well on his evaluations.

"Okay Red team go," Birkoff instructed Michael's team to leave, totally focused on the mission.

Michael ran out, gun in hand, hair tied back, dressed in mission fatigues. The rest of his team followed behind him.

Michael kicked open the weak wooden door. He ran down the corridor and slid down the pole that led to the boiler room. He heard something behind him, and saw an enemy aiming. Michael beat him to the punch, shooting the man right between the eyes. He looked around and continued on. He entered a room with pillars and a musty smell. Michael reached inside his jacket for the charge, attaching it to a pillar. He started running again, returning to the transport van. Just as he was coming down the corridor to the exit he felt and heard a gunshot. Michael stumbled and fell to the ground...he was shot in the leg. He turned on his back and shot the person who wasn't smart enough to get rid of him with the first shot. The man fell with a grunt. Michael blocked out the pain...he had to get back to the van. He struggled to stand and limped out of the compound.

Birkoff and the rest of the team had been waiting on Michael, then saw him hopping in a rush. Birkoff looked to the team and saw they had already left to aid Michael to the van. They put arms around his shoulder and carried him.

Michael sat down painfully in the van, "Detonate." Michael hadn't said a word about his leg, concerned only with completing the mission.

Birkoff pressed a key on his keyboard and heard the compound explode as they drove off. Michael reached for his cell phone and pressed a speed dial button, "Sequence completed."

************

Madeline had ordered Michael to go home for overnight and tomorrow. The pain meds she ordered him to take would make him useless to Section. The gunshot wound to his leg wasn't serious but would incapacitate him for a while.

Michael woke up in his bed, the down comforter and velvet sheets warmed him on a cool fall morning. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Normally he woke up at 5 to go to Section, where he could work non-stop to forget his loneliness, his pain, and as of yesterday Nikita.

He tried to turn over in bed to see the clock but his leg was dead weight. His neck craned to see the red luminous digits form 11 o'clock in the morning. Apparently the meds Madeline gave him ensured him a nice long sleep. He sighed...there wasn't much to do around his house.

He got out of bed with much difficulty and hobbled over to his armoire. He opened up the cabinets and turned on the television. Reaching for the remote he turned around and dove back into bed. He snuggled deeper into the blankets and was reminded of his medication by the throbbing in his leg. He didn't want to take the pills but Madeline did order him. He reached for the bottle on the nightstand and popped 2 pills in his mouth to swallow.

Michael channel surfed casually, not really even wanting to watch television. He flipped the TV off and decided to just sleep the day away...it was better than staying awake bored.

Nikita walked up the familiar steps of Michael's home. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to face him again. Reaching out to ring the doorbell she felt relieved, now she couldn't chicken out and just leave, he would know she had been there.

Michael was starting to doze off when he heard the doorbell.

Merde! How the hell am I supposed to get down the stairs without killing myself? Oh...screw it!

Michael turned around back in bed and tried to ignore the incessant knocks on the door, falling asleep with the help of the meds.

Nikita groaned, he was probably at work or something. She looked down in the plant pot and felt guilty for even considering just walking in.

Screw it! I need to talk to him and I'll wait for him all day if I have to!

Nikita dug her hand in the pot, fishing around for the house key. Feeling a metal trinket she closed her hand around it and pulled her arm out. She inserted the key and walked in. She wasn't sure if anyone was home and decided to look around.

Nikita tiptoed into the kitchen and surveyed all around her. No one was in the kitchen. She crept softly up the stairs, almost afraid of what she would find there for some strange reason.

The first room was an office, with a computer in it. It appeared as though Michael only had the most advanced technology in computers in his office. She wandered back into the hall.